On Expressions of Love

Must I believe, sweet Cynthia, that the flame
Hath light and heat, had I ne'er felt the same?
Must I believe the cold and hardest flint
(Had I ne'er known 't) had fiery sparkles in 't ?
Must I believe the load-stone e'er did draw
The steel, when such a thing I never saw?
Must I turn Papist by implicit faith,
To believe tha-t, which thou, or woman saith?
Thou sayest thou lov'st me, but thou dost not show
Any the smallest sign that it is so :
All emanations of thy soul thou keep'st
Retir'd within thy breast, as when thou sleep'st :
True love is not a mere intelligence
That 's metaphysical, for every sense
Must see and judge of it ; I must avow,
That senseless things are kinder far than thou :
Thou neither wilt embrace, nor kiss ; thy hand
(Unless I kiss it) doth each touch withstand:
Learn therefore of the flame not to profess
Thou lov'st, unless thou love in act express :
Learn of the flint which being once calcin'd,
Becomes a white soft cement, that will bind
Learn of the load-stone, let it teach thy heart
Not only to draw lovers, but impart
Thy favours to them ; let thy servants feel
Thy love, who are more sensible then steel